


LOCKET

by lingeringflowers



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Gen, Hurt/No Comfort, Songfic, TechnoBlade, chat voices are canon, i just think these lyrics fit technoblade extremely well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lingeringflowers/pseuds/lingeringflowers
Summary: Technoblade struggles to fight off the demons in his head.orI really like the song Locket by Crumb and it fits him well.
Kudos: 10





	LOCKET

**Author's Note:**

> hullo third fic! i hope you enjoy i tried my best on this one :)

_ i live in a house with a tin roof and _

_ every time it rains i can feel my brain it’s _

_ moving back and forth, upside-down, east west _

_ feeling and remembering everything you do _

The cape was heavy on his shoulders, colored red like the blood spilt on his hands. His heart lay heavy in his chest, lifted up by deep sighs. He watched as the sun set over the dark ocean depths, fiddling with his necklaces. As soon as the sun dipped out of sight, he turned abruptly on his heels and began the trek back to his cottage.

His home wasn’t much, just a shack sat in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of white snow. It was quiet here… almost too quiet.

Technoblade did his best to ignore the voices in his head. They were his dirty little secret, and they loved to remind him. 

_ “Kill”.  _

_ “Death”. _

_ “Technobad”. _

_ “Technokill”. _

They mocked him. He was supposed to be retired. Everyday had the same routine: groom Carl, tend to his villagers and dogs (he had a surplus), and meet up with Philza to have an adventure.

Except, Philza hadn’t shown up in a few days, and Technoblade was getting worse. He didn’t like to admit it, but the lines on his forehead etched deeper everyday and his head clogged up with repeating, mind-numbing thoughts. 

_ i was up last night tossing and turning _

_ couldn’t get to sleep and i slept through the morning _

_ need to clear my head and get out the city _

_ all alone in the jungle you’ll find me _

The rain was slanted, and he shielded his eyes with his cloak. He wanted to get inside, be warm, but his mind had been especially stubborn that day. They filled his head with constant whisperings of murder. They cried for blood. So Technoblade gave in. He stumbled out into the sleet and started to hunt. The skies cleared and stars appeared above, but he continued to hunt. Slinging arrows and slicing necks, one after another. Ot was only until the man could barely stand that he resigned. He threw every last rabbit and cow remains in the fire, disgusted with himself. Where was Philza…. he needed him.

Other people struggled with not remembering things. Ghostbur only knew his happy past, and Ranboo had parts of his missing. But Techno, well, he remembered too much. He remembered the dirt underneath his fingers from every last potato seed. He remembered the moment Wilbur’s laughter turn from gleeful to manical. He remembered the stone ravine, closing in on all sides. He remembered the voices shrieking, louder and louder in his head-  _ kill Tubbo, shoot him, do it now. _ The blinding sparks never faded from his eyes.

It was a curse, a burden. Technoblade constantly  _ felt _ things, a never-ending suffering of emotion. Sure, he had his coping mechanisms, but nothing seemed to help quite like murder. (It wasn’t his fault, he was peer pressured). He just had to… just had to kill.

It was in his name, after all. The Blade. Tommy never seemed to see him as more than a weapon. Everyone loved to use him for resources and to have on their side until they didn’t, and he was cast aside. Betrayed,

time and time again. 

Philza was the only one that never left him, but he was… god knows where. 

_ so maybe someday this roof will cave in _

_ you’ll find me on the floor, looking at the stars _

_ these walls are made of brick, plated in gold _

_ but i’m still here, growing so old _

The house rattled with gusts of wind. Techno was tired of this lonesome routine. He was constantly scrubbing his hands free of blood, and he despised it. He had proved everyone right: he was a weapon of destruction. But there was nothing he could do to stop himself. At nightfall, he gathered up his things and journeyed to the cliffside. He watched the stars drift across the sky, finally letting sleep overtake him.

And so that’s where he lay.. Waiting for the day his friend returned home.

  
  



End file.
